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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164995">My Favourite Mistake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin'>Dr_Roslin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alina Needs A Hug, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mal and Alina are engaged but neither the Darkling nor I think it will last, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Past The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, Porn without plot but it's all verbal, Possible future Darkling/Alina Starkov, Regards to Mal, Safe if Triggered by Pregnancy, The Darkling Is Not Nice, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:07:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We both know how this is going to go, Alina.”</p><p>Alina Starkov's boss, Aleksander Morozova, has his own ideas of how her recent engagement to Mal Oretsev will end, ideas he's only too happy to share with her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov - Relationship, Past Mal Oretsev/Zoya Nazyalensky, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Favourite Mistake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I should clarify since I couldn't find a great way to do so in the tags: there is no actual smut in this fic, only a great deal of discussion regarding past and future sexual acts. My apologies.</p><p>But if you want to watch the Darkling whisper in Alina's ears all the dirty things they could do to each other, read on...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So the boy <em>can</em> move when he needs to. I’ll admit it; I’m impressed. He managed the bare minimum."</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>She hadn’t noticed how he’d managed to get that close without her noticing, hiding in the shadows just off to the side of the bar in this swanky hotel currently hosting all her drunk co-workers. She wasn’t surprised they’d chosen it, it was her boss’ favourite watering hole, which he favoured as it was close enough to the office to allow for easy back and forth, convenient enough so that he didn’t have to go home when he worked through most of the night and decided to crash.</p><p>She wished she wasn’t as familiar with it as she was.</p><p>She wished the hotel staff didn’t know how often she’d arrived later to avoid her colleague's curious eyes, claiming her key before going upstairs to join him.</p><p>Squaring her shoulders, she turned slowly to look at him, pretending she was noticing him there for the first time. Though it was hard to see how that was possible, seeing how large Aleksander Morozova was, towering over her in his overly tall frame, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room, his dark eyes only half-hidden under hooded lids. It really was unfortunate how large he was, how handsome; the impression of a dark prince only enhanced by the hair so dark you could be blamed for missing the mahogany lights that peeked out, and the close-cropped beard that emphasized the sharp lines of his face.</p><p>Still. She tries, pretending a disinterest she’s unable to really feel.</p><p>Flexes her left hand like a lifeline.</p><p>The bartender chose that moment to deliver her cosmopolitan, which she takes gratefully, delighting somewhat in the way the lights of the bar hit the diamond solitaire of her brand-new engagement ring as she did so. She wished it gave her more courage than it did, but she reminded herself of what she’d decided on the way here, right hand clasped with Mal’s. Reminded herself of the sense of joy she’d had, walking in hand in hand, as their colleagues gushed over their surprise engagement.</p><p>“Mal knows a good thing when he sees it.”</p><p>“Does he, now? Then it’s a shame he’s so slow in expressing his… appreciation.”</p><p>It stung, as she knew he’d meant it to, the old feeling of unworthiness sneaking through, that old sense of never being seen, by her oldest friend least of all. She’d always feared he’d never see her, not really, not the way she’d dreamed he would. She’d always feared, just a little, that they’d always stay the way they were, best friends, even as she always longed for more. Dreamed of spending their lives together. Even as she’d have to watch from a distance too close to be comfortable as he squired every pretty girl he'd come across back to his place. Even as she'd always feared she'd have to watch as he’d (eventually) find the right one to keep. To build a life with.</p><p>She’d always feared it wouldn’t be her.</p><p>Still. Maybe she'd just been impatient. </p><p>After all - </p><p>“He always comes through in the end,” she snaps out, almost obnoxious about it as she makes sure the lights of the bar hit the ring once again, sending out sharp arrows of light as the diamond reflects the light around the room.</p><p>And it was true, he did. He had. The ring on her finger was proof enough of that. Mal Osterov had been her closest friend, her best friend, her only friend, for decades, for her entire life, ever since they’d been little lost orphans at the same foster home, both of them lost, both of them scarred, both of them broken. He was the only person she’d ever felt ‘safe’ when he was around, the only person who’d made her understand exactly what ‘safe’ could be. She didn’t have a home; she had Mal.</p><p>And they’d just made it official. The ring on her finger says ‘home’. It says ‘safe’. It says ‘chosen’.</p><p>It says ‘seen’.</p><p>“Mmmm” was all her nemesis says now, looking down at her with lust and disdain in those dark eyes, before he takes a drink of whatever amber liquid he’s nursing in the square-cut class that looks so small in his hand.</p><p>“Depends how you define ‘end’ then, I’d imagine. I would have thought an engagement would be considered a beginning, of your lives together, of the possibilities you’d find together. But, then. I’ve always been old-fashioned.”</p><p>Furious, she’d opened her mouth to growl at him when he managed the final shot.</p><p>“So where is this paragon of adequacy at the moment? I wouldn’t have thought he’d have left your side tonight, Alinochka.”</p><p>She shivered, despite herself, hearing his voice shiver down her spine, stirring all the memories, the sound of his voice in a darkened room as the night wrapped around them, creating a cocoon of soft warmth and secrecy. </p><p>
  <em>Pet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alinochka. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>My sun.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alya.</em>
</p><p>Her name on his lips, every pet name, every diminutive, as he’d tried them all even as his lips had been occupied at the same time, caressing her body and learning her every weakness.</p><p>The way his dark eyes had burned as she’d called him by the diminutive in return.</p><p><em>Sasha</em>.</p><p>But, no, she wasn’t going to dwell on that. She’d been weak; seduced by possibilities and the secrets, the purpose he’d known how to dangle so enticingly, how he’d known just what to do to summon her with a crook of his finger, how he'd known how to bring out her every vulnerability. Making her question everything she’d always known she’d always wanted. Everything, she reminded herself, that now lie within her grasp.</p><p>“He’s here, talking with our friends over there,” she confirms now, her chin rising in defiance. “He trusts me not to wander off.”</p><p>“Really. Or maybe he has his own interests as well, hmm?”</p><p>There was that smirk again.</p><p>‘And are they really your friends, kitten? Or do they just come with along with Mal?”</p><p>Alina wishes she could deny it, the way the others still fail to see her, how they suddenly noticed her presence only as she walked in as Mal’s fiancée, or as they squealed over her ring and entered her ‘lost’ contact details in their phones so they could share their favourite wedding planning sites.</p><p>Zoya Nazyalensky’s standing next to Mal now, and it’s hard to contain her jealousy, though it should sting more than it does, watching his former fling rub her hand up and down his taut biceps under the pretense of moving closer to watch the latest hockey highlights on his phone.</p><p>It should sting more, as Zoya rubs up against her fiancée, than it does, that image, should make her feel enraged, self-conscious, but she tells herself that it’s because she trusts him to ignore the open invite Zoya is giving him to rub up against her in return.</p><p>That it doesn't bother her because it shouldn't.</p><p>Tells herself that it's because she trusts him, that they trust each other, and that’s why it doesn’t sting. That’s why he didn’t notice as she wandered over to the bar to drink more than she should and listen to Aleks as his dark voice whispered in her ear, as she watches as his shirt stretches and the buttons protest as he flexes his chest in front of her.</p><p>He’d always known she likes it, the way his broad frame fills his expensive suits. Had always known how to use it against her.</p><p>But she’s immune now – that’s what the diamond ring on her finger means. </p><p>Right?</p><p>“We both know how this is going to go, Alina.”</p><p>She knew what he referred to; rejected it with every fibre of her being even as she knew it was true. As much as she tried to ignore it, ignore him, close her ears and her mind and her heart, force herself to move, to walk away, she couldn’t.</p><p>“I can’t blame him for claiming you, as I said, he <em>can</em> move. If he has to. I miscalculated, apparently, pet, as to how he would react when he saw you come out of my office late that night. Miscalculated how quickly that would push him to action.”</p><p>Because she knew what he was going to say and she knew it was all going to be true.</p><p>“But we all know how this is going to end."</p><p>She ignores how the whispers in her ear only reinforce the certainties in her heart. Reinforce the truth she'd known even as the ring had slid onto her finger. </p><p>"Look at him, so happy now, so proud. He’s proved it; he’s a man, he’s made you his, took that next step. Put the ring on your finger. Kept you entirely his. Made sure you didn't... wander off. How long do you think it’s going to take, kitten, before that sense of achievement - of relief - starts to fade? Until he starts to second guess what commitment looks like, hmm? Until he starts to hesitate about setting a date.”</p><p>He stops, strategically, to raise the glass to his lips, and she stares at his large hands around the small glass, as the cuff of his jacket falls back to reveal the edge of the white dress shirt, the cuff links with the small suns on them that she’d picked out, as a joke, back when she thought all of this might mean something.</p><p>Back when she’d stupidly assumed that a night in his hotel bed and a room-service breakfast shared as they’d been propped up against his pillows might mean more than mind-blowing sex. Before she’d realized his ability to disassociate between <em>want</em> and <em>need</em>.</p><p>It’s worse now, though, as he keeps talking.</p><p>“There’s no rush, right? That’s what he said? You’ll be moving into his place, I imagine, if you haven’t already, it’s so much more comfortable - for him - I imagine. So why rush the formalities, right? I'm sure that's what he told you. He’ll just settle you in, tuck you neatly into his life, his house, the way he should imagine his future. I give it six months before you convince him to set a date, another year before the wedding.”</p><p>“Weddings take time, Aleks.”</p><p>
  <em>Not that you would know. </em>
</p><p>“They do, and I’m sure he’ll remind you of that too, that the weddings take time, that you want to do it, <em>right</em>. And I’ll sure he’ll mean it, at the time, my heart. When he convinces you that you can wait eighteen months for no other reason than he’s not all that eager to get there."</p><p>He takes another small sip, contemplating her as he looks down at her, still towering over her by over six inches, even in the fancy high heels that Mal had picked out and that she refuses to admit make her feel like a baby giraffe.</p><p>"Not that he’ll sell it like that.”</p><p>It should be weird, should be noticeable, how she’s tucked away in the small alcove by the bar with her notorious boss, but somehow it is like the entire universe has shrunk down to this small bubble of just the two of them. The bartender is off, tending to other customers at the other end of the bar and somehow no one has wandered over, to claim her, to fight for her attention. It’s intimate, somehow, the two of them, as he curls his large body around her and whispers threats and dark promises in her ear.</p><p>“It feels so cozy right not, I imagine, so domestic. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you were always dreaming of, those nights when I had to fight not to tie you to my bed to make sure I had your attention. Feels so right, doesn’t it pet? To have him committed to you, noticing you, appreciating you. Having you in his home, making it a home for the two of you. Just as you'd already imagined. I imagine for him it feels like bathwater that’s just a smidge too hot and getting hotter. Warming up by increments that are barely manageable for him, <em>now</em>.</p><p>The question, how long before it’s just too hot? How long before it’s just <em>easier</em> for him to escape the pressure, at least for a little while, just as he’s doing now, standing over there with his adoring court. How long until it’s easier for him to escape to nights out with them? How often until it’s his preference? You always think you’re not scary, my sun, but the truth is, you’re fucking terrifying, and that’s to me. Someone who knows you, really knows you. Which means I’m sure you scare the pants off of him. Why do you think it took him so long, to make a move, while you’ve been standing right there, in front of him, for years? Why do you think it took watching you walk towards me, lean into me, contemplate a potential future with me, for him to finally get you into his bed, put his ring on your finger?”</p><p>That breaks her, her hand clenching around her glass, as she resists the urge to throw it in his handsome face by the smallest degrees.</p><p>“There is no future with you,' she hisses now, grateful for the way it burns through her throat. 'There is no us. You made that perfectly fucking clear.”</p><p>“I made my <em>conditions</em> clear, pet, conditions I thought you would have no significant problem with, given enough encouragement. The only boundaries I set were ones meant to ensure you couldn’t hide from me.”</p><p>“Conditions meant to <em>change</em> me.”</p><p>“Conditions meant to <em>challenge</em> you. And you can’t tell me you weren’t tempted.”</p><p>
  <em>Can’t tell me you weren’t scared. Of what they would mean. Of what it would mean for them to be a 'they.'</em>
</p><p>Which, of course, she had been.</p><p>Which, of course, which is why she’d run.</p><p>“But we’re not discussing me, are we? We’re discussing Mal. Your loving fiancée. Your knight in shining armour. The valiant huntsman in modern garb. Who adores you, I’m sure. Who fucks you so much better than I could, I’m sure-“</p><p>“You <em>don’t</em> get to discuss our sex life.”</p><p>That smirk is deadly.</p><p>“Naturally, kitten. My apologies. I’m sure he’s perfectly <em>fine</em>. I’m sure he’s everything you need. Treats you like a princess. Soft and sweet, I’m sure – but again, I’m overstepping,” he says in a mockery of respecting her feelings, his massive hands with those long, agile fingers held up in protest, that too-small glass still held by two fingers too long to be anything other than tempting.</p><p>“It’s just that I can see your future, when I look at you. When I look at him. And so can you. He'll slip-up one night shortly after you've set the date – I’m sure he won’t mean to drink that much, I’m sure that’s the reason that he kisses her – maybe Zoya. Maybe someone else.”</p><p>He’s gone too far and she raises her hand to slap him, but he’s too fast, taking advantage of her move, grab her hand and pull her in until there’s barely any daylight between them, until his lips are so close to her ear that she’s not sure there’s half an inch between them as his whispers get closer, darker, painting her a picture of her future that too real not to be believable. That's too painful not to hear.</p><p>“He’ll regret it, desperately, confess everything to you the next morning, all in hopes of your forgiveness. And as you won’t be able to deny him, you, my <em>gentle</em> sun, you’ll believe him that it was a simple slip-up, believe him when he says that he loves you – as I’m sure he does – wants to do better, will do anything to make it better, couples therapy, setting a date, spending more time at home. Whatever it takes. He'll promise you the moon, his utter, unending devotion, if that's what it takes.</p><p>And I’m sure that he’ll be a good little soldier. At least for a time.</p><p>Until he won’t be able to resist anymore, and that night, not far from now, pet, not far from here, he’ll slip up again. And again. And again. And again. So many times, he’ll have lost track. He’ll be so far gone, he won’t be able to tell up from down, won’t be able to tell right from wrong, let alone see a way out. He’ll be in so deep that he’ll no longer be able to conceive of the concept of daylight, let alone a way to get somewhere he might be able to see it.</p><p>I almost feel bad for him, my love, knowing how desperate he’ll be in that moment, how fucking lost he’ll feel, as the fear will practically suffocate him as he knows that there will be no way back from that. For him. For you.</p><p>And that, my love, he <em>will</em> hide from you.</p><p>But you’ll know, won’t you?</p><p>As if that boy could hide secrets, hide them in the shadows, from you.”</p><p>He’s breaking her, rending her in half, but she can’t stop it, can’t walk away. Not when she sees it as clear as he does, in her mind. Sees as time speeds up and watches in fast forward as her brand-new engagement falls apart in front of her.</p><p>And she knows, even before he says it, how it’s all going to go next.</p><p>“I’ll be waiting, <em>Alinochka, </em>when that day comes. I’ll be waiting for you to come to me. And I won’t care why you’re there, won't care whose ring you're wearing, won’t care that you don’t want to be there, won’t care if you tell yourself that you’re not intending to stay.</p><p>I’ll just be waiting, for your knock on my door. And if you don’t want to tell me why you’re there, I won’t make you. And if you don’t want to talk, I won’t talk. I won’t talk, and I won’t make you ask for what you want, and I won’t make you explain and I won’t make you make me any promises you won’t want to make.</p><p>I won’t make you beg, no matter how much I love it when you do.</p><p>I’ll just be there, waiting, to strip you bare and take you to my bed and make you scream. That’s the only thing I’ll want – I’ll <em>demand</em> – in that moment, as I strip you from your clothes, as I tear the lingerie off your body. I won’t be soft, and I won’t be gentle, and I won’t be sweet. And I sure as hell won’t be <em>adequate</em>. And the only thing you’ll have to say is my name. As loud as you can. Any and every which way you want to say it.”</p><p><em>Sasha</em>.</p><p>“Any which way you want to fucking scream it.</p><p>And that’s the only thing I’ll ask of you, Alyna, as you lay in my bed with your thighs on my shoulders, your cunt impaled on my fingers and your clit wrapped between my lips. As you fuck my face so hard that I’ll never get the taste out of my mouth, as your back has to arch, all the way back, to fight the pleasure. You do that, fight it, fight the build-up and the pleasure, as you come, and it makes me so fucking hot. Just as I get so hot knowing that you always want my hands on your hips and your breasts in my mouth, or my hand on your throat and my fingers in your mouth, as you come on my cock.”</p><p>And she shouldn’t want it, what he's describing, knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help it, as the memories of the endless nights spent in his bed easily, so easily, too easily allow her to picture it, her body entwined with his in his charcoal sheets as they make a mess of his expensive bedclothes on his perfectly coordinated bed.</p><p>“I fucking love it, how you fight it and then release it all, the tension, and let me take over, as you stop fighting, as I fucking make you <em>come</em>. You can’t tell me you don’t love it too. I’ve seen it, on your face, in your eyes, as you lay in my bed and let me come over you, let me fucking take you.”</p><p>Her hands messing up his perfectly coiffed hair, her sweat and come messing up his perfectly toned body as it uses every ounce of its honed strength to make her come so hard she forgets how to talk.</p><p>“As you bury your face in my pillows so hard that they always smell like you, like those pillows can protect your face from my gaze, like you can pretend you aren't wriggling that perfect ass for the right angle for me to bury my cock in your perfect pussy so fucking far that I almost lose it, the moment you suck me in. Before I pound you into the mattress from behind, with my cock in your cunt and my hands on your hips while you flick your clit so hard I’m always a little afraid you’ll break it before I get my chance.”</p><p>There’s nothing connecting them, now, other than his hand gentle on her wrist, keeping her pinned, yet holding her safe.  </p><p>“But I’ll get my chance that night, Alina, when you come to me, shaken but not surprised by his betrayal, I’ll get my chance to have my tongue up your cunt as much as I want, as you let me fuck you so hard and for so long that you forget his fucking face.”</p><p>Shocked, she notices Mal headed that way, realizes he’s come to ‘save’ her from what he no doubt feels is a situation she needs ‘saving’ from, but even as she goes to tug her hand free, Alex firms his grip till she can’t move it, though no one can see their hands entwined, hidden as they are by the bar, still the only contact between them.</p><p>He can’t help it, after all, her Aleks, can’t resist the final word.</p><p>“How long did it take him, since the night he saw you coming out of my office that night? To show up at your place with flowers and candy? Or with a fucking pizza and some half-assed excuse of checking on you? Was it that night, Alyna? Was it the next? He doesn’t know, does he, what I showed you in the dark? What you dream of when you let yourself go, let you reach out for <em>everything</em> you want, without limitations? When you can’t stop yourself from the dreams of what’s possible? When you think of screaming your pleasure in my bed?”</p><p>Mal’s closer now, almost there, but though Aleks has let go of her hand, he’s still close enough that he doesn’t have to whisper, his voice hidden from all other by the bar's music, even as he does. Whispers his dark promises and sweet threats in her ear.</p><p>“With him, you focus on being gentle, sweet, forgiving, the soft light of a spring day. That's what he gets, isn't it? The soft lace and the warmth of your body in his bed. You don't give him the fire, not the fire you give me when you let yourself go. When you sink to your knees, take my cock in your perfect, wet mouth and take me over. Make me your willing subject. There's no half-assed warmth with me, Alyna. With me, you’re the overwhelming heat of a summer’s day. Powerful, everlasting. Light and heat and life.</p><p>And isn’t that what scares you, in the end?”</p><p>He’s walking away now, apparently unwilling to even engage with her fiancée, somehow managing to make his snub even more insulting than it should be as he moves away.</p><p>“Come see me when you realize what you’re capable of.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen, I love the Grishaverse, though I am entirely Team Darklina so I find rereading the last two books frustrating. I think that's why I never fully committed to the fandom, although the tv show does look intriguing, especially with the casting of the Darkling and Alina. </p><p>And then one night, the Darkling started whispering in my ear....</p><p>So here we are.</p><p>Come find me on Twitter if you want to scream about books, sci-fi, fandom, reylo and Battlestar Galactica.<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/RandomBks">@RandomBks</a></p><p>"I made up the bed we sleep in.<br/>I looked at the clock when you creep in.<br/>It's 6 AM and I'm alone...<br/>Your friends are sorry for me.<br/>They watch pretend to adore me." - Sheryl Crow</p></blockquote></div></div>
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